I Know We Said Goodbye
by JacksBoonie
Summary: #43 When you stumble through the front door, the other end seems miles away. So you run, shoving people and luggage aside. You can't offer niceties at a time like this. He could be boarding the train already. JDCox


AN: Okay! #43 in **_The Great One-Shot Expulsion_. **Yup, it's time to start posting these again. I have so many, I just need to keep them coming, a few at a time. I don't want to clog up the Scrubs page...Enjoy!

_I Know We Said Goodbye_

God, you hate train scenes. They're always overly dramatic, sappy, and filled with cliche dialog that threatens to turn your stomach. Men with faded fedoras and women with floral scarves and big, tear-filled eyes, pleading him not to leave . . . Does that make you the girl? Oh, he will pay for this.

The train station is smaller than most, but when you stumble through the front door, the other end seems miles away. So you run, shoving people and luggage aside. You can't offer niceties at a time like this. He could be boarding the train already.

Everyone in the station seems set on being in your way. You growl and jump up onto the benches, leaping from one to the other. A few employees glare at you with disapproval – you, who dares to upset the natural order of the train station policy – and shout that you're not allowed to do that.

You smirk. Like you care. The only thing that could stop you now is God Himself, and you doubt very much that someone – some_thing_? – you don't even believe in is going to strike you down.

The last bench. You jump over an empty stroller and land on the dulled tiles with an echoing _tap_. Your knees scream in pain, but you grit your teeth and keep running.  
A train whistle sounds, and your heart leaps into your throat. Is it leaving already? Damn! You thought you had more time than this. Your hands reach out, and you slam into the glass door, your fingers curling over the thin, horizontal metal bar. You push and nearly fall out onto the platform.

The train is leaving. You're too late. You release an exasperated sigh, falling to your knees and linking your fingers behind your head. Your chest heaves painfully, and you realize just how out of breath you really are.

You missed him. By mere seconds. He's gone, and he's not coming back. You have to go after him. You can't leave it like this. _Neither_ of you can. He told you he loves you. God, why didn't you say anything back? Why are you always such an idiot? Why . . . Why is there someone staring at you from across the platform?

You want to grind your teeth, yell at them to mind their own business. But those wide blue eyes gawking at you from behind the remnants of the train's smoke seem oh-so familiar. It couldn't be . . . It _shouldn't_ be . . . It wouldn't be . . .

"Newbie?" you croak, afraid that it's some sort of mirage, an illusion. Your subconscious wants it to be him, therefore--

"Doctor Cox?" JD's voice echoes, and your breath catches in your throat.

You slowly stand to wobbly legs, your knees almost clacking together like in those stupid cartoons Jack watches on weekends. JD, luggage in hand, slowly makes his way towards you, a look of utter confusion gracing his face. His eyes are red and puffy – a clear-cut sign that he's been crying. Way to go, you jerk.

"What're you-"

"Carol, just shut up and let me get this out before I lose my nerve," you interrupt, holding up a hand and taking a step towards him. His eyebrows knit together, and he backs away, halting you in your tracks. You don't think you've ever seen such a look on the kid's face – such hate and hurt and . . . disappointment. You've put that look there. You've let him down. Oh, if only there was a way to fix this . . .

"I give up a job in San Francisco – a job, may I remind you, that has promised to pay almost _triple_ my salary from Sacred Heart and has benefits beyond any hospital in the _country_ – I stand outside your door for five hours until you finally let me in so I can profess my – pardon the cliché – undying love to you, only to have you throw me out on my ass – _literally_ – and you . . . you have the _nerve_ to tell me to listen to what you have to say?" JD shakes his head and scoffs, walking around you until your positions are reversed. You follow, your eyes never leaving his penetrating glare. "I'm sorry, Doctor Cox. But you are just not the man I thought I fell in love with."

He starts to turn but you grab his arm. He fights. Your grip tightens. His luggage drops to the ground, and he grasps your biceps, trying to push himself away. You want to laugh because it's almost pathetic, this scrawny, doughy kid against a guy who works out daily. You've somehow twisted his arms behind his back, and he's stopped struggling, his body flush against yours. Every shallow breath he exhales puffs against your lips and nose. He smells like coffee and brown sugar. He stares at you wide-eyed as you slowly dip your head, intent on capturing his lips.

"Perry," he whispers, and you stop a mere inch away from his mouth, "don't." Your body seems to deflate, and your grip on him loosens. He steps back quickly, staring at you hard.

"What do you want from me, JD? Huh?" You demand exhaustedly, collapsing onto a nearby bench and burying your face in your hands. He doesn't say anything for a moment, his anger diminishing as he crosses his arms and draws in a shaky breath.

"I want . . ." He swallows hard and tries again. You sit back, your arms crossing as well, and watch him carefully. "I want you to be happy for me when I get a new job and have the opportunity to move on to bigger and better things instead of telling me I'll come 'crawling back within a week.'"

"JD, I-"

He waves a hand in your direction, narrowing his eyes. "I want you to _listen_ to me when I have something important to say instead of whistling in my face and calling me girls' names."  
You clamp your jaw shut and nod.

"I want . . . I want to know what you were really feeling that night." You open your mouth to answer but he cuts you off once more. "And not your feelings right now. I want to know exactly what you felt that night I told you I was in love with you."

You wait a moment, making sure he's finished before clearing your throat and taking a breath.

"That night," you start huskily, looking to the ground, "you . . . you surprised me." You swallow, laughing nervously. "Nobody's ever been . . . Not even Jordan was . . . that _blunt_ about it. I've never had anyone feel that way about me before and just say it right to my face." You look up, hoping some of this is getting through. His arms are still crossed, but he's looking at you with encouraging eyes, silently beckoning you onward. "And I . . . I was scared because everything you were saying – babbling – was something . . . that I felt too."

"But you didn't say anything," JD accuses, his arms uncrossing as he walks the few steps to the bench, hesitantly sitting beside you. "You didn't stop me from leaving."

"Because I couldn't," you try to explain. "Newbie . . . You're a good doctor. You're a _great_ doctor. I mean that." He looks down at his hands, his cheeks flushing some. "And you're too young to be hanging around this place forever. When something 'bigger and better' comes along, you've got to take that opportunity and run with it. Me, I'm just . . . This is it for me. This is as good as it's ever going to get. I'm going to be stuck at Sacred Heart until I'm a decrepit, old nimrod like Bobbo. There's no moving on to something better." He looks back up into your eyes, and those blue orbs are swimming with tears. "I don't want to be the one thing that holds you back, Newbie. I won't stand for it."

He's silent for a little while before wiping at his nose and saying, "So instead of telling me all of this the other night . . . you opted to kick me out of your apartment and hope that fixed everything?"

You shrug. "That's how my mind works, Connie. You should know that by now." He sighs and shakes his head, offering you a weak smile.

"You think this will work? You and me?"

"I think . . ." You trail off, trying to find the right words. Your gaze shifts to the empty tracks beside the platform. "I think you missed your train."

"There will be other trains," he shrugs.

"But what about that job?"

"There will be other jobs," he smiles, and this time it's genuine. "Like you said, I'm young. I bounce back pretty easy."

"JD-"

"You going to finish what you started, Perry?" he asks, his smile morphing into a mischievous smirk. You don't think you'll ever get used to him calling you that . . . but you'll let him until it grates on your nerves.

"Well, if I have to, we're going to do it right," you say, standing and offering him your hand. He takes it, and you pull him up, pressing him as close to your body as you can and positioning his arms up and around your neck. You both smile as you press your mouths together. His lips are, unsurprisingly, soft – much softer than any man's should be. Damn Newbie and his girlie tendencies. As you break apart for air, you think that you might start liking those train scenes in movies.

But you are most definitely not the girl in this one.


End file.
